Only You and I
by Trinityblade
Summary: Jane and Lisbon multi-chapter story. Set during and after Red John's Footsteps. Ch. 5 now up, back in the present.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist of any of its characters. You know the story._

_Authors Note: I've got bits and pieces of Jisbon fanfiction that I've started and not finished, because I'm not sure if I can get the characters right, but I've got to try. I feel their intensity, and I feel the need to explore it further. Reviews are welcome. - Trinityblade_

A warm gaze falls on her, and she can feel him. A hand almost as warm as his gaze rests on her bare shoulder. She slowly, as if in a dream, turns her head from the glass she was staring at, to look up into those infinite eyes.

No hint of a smile on his face, no trace of a laugh, this is not a joke. Not anymore. He takes her breath away.

"Dance with me, Teresa."

Not really a request and not a command. A statement. He knows she will. This is a moment totally separate from all others, and she prays that she can stay isolated here, tonight, where nothing is complicated, and he's just a man, a dear precious man, asking to hold her, here in this moment, tight in his arms.

He offers her the hand that isn't resting on her shoulder, and she blushes lightly, taking his offering. As if she ever really had a choice. She didn't need one. There was only one choice. Him, he was her choice. She chose him, and he chose life, and here they were.

Slowly she rises, and with her hand wrapped securely in his, walks out with him onto the dance floor, with the ethereal blue overhead lights shining down, making everything glow with the beauty of this night. He leads her to a spot somewhat away from the other couples on the floor.

Still holding her gaze, He gently wraps his right arm securely around her small satin covered waste, her breath hitches slightly, and then takes her other hand, that still rests in his own and pulls it in tightly between their bodies to rest on his chest, and they are home. Finally, both are where they know they belong.

Her remaining free hand curves gracefully around his neck, and he rests his forehead against hers, as the words of the song playing gently around them settle between them, and as they move begin to move, green eyes remain captivated by blue, and at that moment there are no words needed. They are the only ones there, and there is nothing else more important to either one of them than the one that they hold in their arms.

He looks into the eyes of the one who refused to give up, who wouldn't leave him in his misery, who knew him in his darkest hour, and loved him quietly through it all. He is at peace with the past, and the intensity that he had once reserved wholly for revenge on the man that he thought had taken away his life, is now directed where it belongs. Where he hopes it will be allowed to remain for the rest of his life. It rests now on his reason for living, his attention and devotion rests on her.

She is the one real thing in a world full of nightmares. This is the first time he has held her, the first time either has let down their guard fully, and it is more sacred than the sincerest of vows.

"Oh how could I face the faceless days if I should lose you now, we're so close to reaching that famous happy ending, almost believing, this ones not pretend…" she sings lightly along with the melody playing around them.

He smiles and moves to nuzzle his nose up against hers, and she is so soft, and her small hands move up to comb through his curls. They smile together, and begin to sway a little more rhythmically to the new tune that has come over the speakers.

He whispers quietly in her ear, "Ah, exactly what I was thinking.", and then begins singing softly in his low baritone voice along with the music. She didn't know he could sing, but she shouldn't really be surprised. She smiles again, and holds him tighter as he sings his heart to her, where only she can bear witness to his healing, to his joy, to his salvation. His face is now pulled back far enough away from her own that she can see his eyes, and feel his lips moving softly, feel the breath of the words he sings to her on her own. She is captivated.

Someday when I'm awfully low, and the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you

And the way you look tonight

You're lovely with your smile so warm

And your cheeks so soft there is nothing for me but to love you

And the way you look tonight

She looks up from underneath her long lashes, and watches mesmerized as he sings those words, "Nothing for me but to love you". He sings them without any hesitation and she knows he is confessing himself to her. A tear falls from her sparkling eyes and traces softly down her porcelain cheek only to be silenced in its journey by his warm lips on the corner of her mouth. She cannot breathe, and wonders absently if this is what heaven is like.

When his lips have finished kissing away her tear, he pulls his hand up to cradle her face, like it is the most precious and fragile of flowers, and smiles gently. She hesitates no longer and reaches up just the tiniest bit to kiss his lips. It is soft, and gentle, and slow, but so tender and full of promise and longing that both feel they must be making love. He pulls back, and gives her a smile brighter than any she has ever seen before, and when she mirrors it, he asks quietly,

"Will you come with me tonight?" Of course she will. There is no physically possible way for her to go anywhere else, and somehow she knows, that she will never be apart from him again.

So hand in hand they leave the dance floor, and walk silently out of the hotel ball room, and down the stairs into the lobby, afraid to say anything to break the spell hanging over them. He retrieves his coat from the doorman and wraps it around her shoulders before they head out into the cool star filled night.

_A/N: This is just the first chapter, of I hope, many. Let me know what you think. I was there in the room with them as I wrote it, and now I need to try to fall out of love with them and return to my real life. Hopefully I'll be able to continue with them in this story, but only if you want me to._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any part of the television show The Mentalist. _

_She's got a way about her,_

_Don't know what it is,_

_But I know that I can't live without her_

_She's got a way of pleasing_

_Don't know why it is, _

_But there doesn't have to be a reason anyway_

They walk in silence, hand in hand, each filled with their own thoughts, but simultaneously very much aware of each other.

He knows that they having been leading up to this night for a very long time.

It was slow going for a while, true, but at some point, well at a certain point really, when he shot Hardy to save her, it had picked up it's pace and hadn't stopped barreling toward them since.

They hadn't really talked about it at all. Neither one knew what to say to the other. It was too profound a thing, him choosing to save her, and in doing so severing the one tie he had to Red John. She had been right about him that night in the basement. She had told him that he would choose life if it really came to it. But she had also been wrong in a way. When she told him that she thought he would choose life, she had meant that he would choose his own life, that he wouldn't sacrifice himself to kill his enemy. But he would have. He really would have if that had been the only factor. His life alone was not worth anything to him, but her life, and his life with her was an entirely different matter.

He couldn't even remember picking up the gun. He could only react. Hardy was going to shoot her, and that could not be. The gun was in his hands, and he pulled the trigger, and the only thing his brain could think, was 'Not Her'. Not her, not Lisbon, Not her, not her, not her. And afterwards, as he realized what he had done, he felt strangely free. In that moment, he saw clearly for the first time the one thing that had eluded him for years. He saw his truth, his saw his salvation; for the first time, he really saw her.

He had chosen life. He had chosen her life, which was inextricably now bound to his own, though he realizes now that it had been all along.

As he muses over these things, they have been slowly meandering towards a nearby park. It is a place that he has always found to be peaceful, and he finds it mildly intriguing that they should end up here, when there hadn't really been a specific destination in mind.

There is, however, a slight problem. This park is gated shut at night. Well, of course, to anyone else, this would mean turning away and finding somewhere else to go. But somehow, Jane knows this is where they should be right now, so he glances over at Lisbon, who has her head tilted slightly to the side, a stray tendril of her wavy dark hair blowing lightly across her face, and he grins. She rolls her eyes at him, knowing he has something up his sleeve, and feeling pretty certain she knows what it is, but she smiles at him anyway, because if he wasn't doing this, he wouldn't be her Jane.

Somehow, its comforting to both of them to know that even though this night is a monumental step in their relationship, that it will change everything about them, they are still themselves, and that their dynamic hasn't really changed except that now they intend to explore it much more deeply.

_She's got a smile that heals me, _

_I don't know why it is _

_But I have to laugh when she reveals me_

_She's got a way of talking, don't know why it is,_

_But it lifts me up when we are walking anywhere_

Because she knows that nothing she could say would stop him from getting inside a place this is clearly supposed to be off limits, and also because she doesn't really want to stop him, she says simply,

"Be careful Jane. Those suit pants look expensive, and I would hate for you to tear them up when you fall into an unceremonious heap on the concrete." Her bright green eyes twinkle as she says this, and she laughs lightly when he leaps up and climbs spryly up and over the gate, landing nimbly on the other side with nary a scratch and only a simple "Oh ye of little faith", in the way of boasting.

He makes quick work of the lock on the other side, and opens the gate to let her in. He could have made her climb, but her dress really was far too pretty to be messed up, and he wasn't quite ready for her to discard it yet for the evening.

She walks slowly into the garden, which at the moment looks and feels like a whole other world, and takes in her surroundings. She hears him shut a lock the gate quietly behind her, but only the smallest part of her mind registers this. The trees over-hanging the path, the sounds of the night, and the bright shimmering stars give this place a feeling of total sanctuary; a retreat that nature made especially for these two people on this specific evening. Everything is so right, and she wonders absently how everything could be so right, when it was so very wrong just a week ago.

He comes up next to her, and taking her hand again, says "This way", and she doesn't hesitate to follow his lead. She knows now that she does trust him implicitly, that she would follow him into the very depths of hell if he asked her to. More importantly, she knows that he would do the same for her.

After a few minutes of walking in silence Jane seems to have found the place that he was looking for and takes the jacket that she had since taken off, and lays it on the ground as a makeshift blanket. He guides her down to sit with him on the soft pallet, and she takes her emerald green heels off with an audible sigh. He chuckles lightly and says, "Better?", to which she responds with only a small nod.

He has noticed a change in her demeanor, and though he is fairly certain what has caused it, he takes both of her hands in his, sitting knee to knee facing her, and waits for her to sort out her thoughts.

She stares into his bright eyes like a blind woman who has just received sight. Her gaze is hungry, as she takes in the sight before her. Patrick Jane, who was so certain of his own demise, and so hell bent on revenge for a family that was lost so long ago, was now sitting here in front of her, very much alive, and very much open about his feelings for her.

She knows that she is crying, because she sees the concern in his eyes, and feels his hands reach out to wipe away her tears, just as his lips had done earlier that evening. She wonders that she has cried twice already tonight, on a night that has been, and promises to continue to be one of the best of her existence. But she knows that it is only out of joy that her tears come.

Had he known, could he have possibly known how afraid she had been for him? How she worried that her determination to save him from himself, somehow wouldn't be enough? She had tried so hard, had dared to go against this force of nature, had held on by her very fingertips when it seemed that his hurricane would surely blow her away forever. Somehow, it had all turned out okay. He had saved her, and in doing so, had saved himself. Now for the moment. Now for the truth to be fully revealed.

She smiles at him, having overcome her emotional moment, and he reaches up to tuck a strand of her raven hair behind her ear. He again asks, "Better?", and this time she responds by way of reaching up and kissing his mouth, once, twice, three times before looking up into his handsome face and whispering, "You're here. You're alive. How has so much changed so quickly?"

He smiles at her and tilts his head as he contemplates his answer. "You, Teresa, you saved my life, and now here we are together, and there's suddenly nothing keeping me from saying that I want to love you for the rest of my life."

The blatant honesty with which he says this renders her speechless. He seems to understand and so he takes her and lays her softly back on the jacket, where he hovers over her face, his hands supporting him on either side of her shoulders, and reaches down to lightly kiss her forehead, her nose, both of her eyes, and then finally her mouth. She loves the taste of him, the feel of his body on hers, the strength in his arms, and then her eyes flutter open when he pulls back slightly and says simply,

"Be mine".

All she can do is nod, before he sweeps back down and recaptures her lips with his own.

_Its all about soul,_

_It's all about joy that comes out of sorrow._

_It's all about soul_

_Authors Note: I'm not entirely sure what to make of this chapter. There are so many ways that I could take this story, but I suspect that it's their journey, and I'm just along for the ride. I'll have another chapter as soon as possible. Thank you all for your lovely reviews. _


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist or any of its characters._

_A/N: I wasn't entirely pleased with the content of the last chapter, and so I gave it a break for a while. I'm giving it another go, and perhaps, if I like this one better, I'll update sooner. Reviews are very helpful in spurring my creativity._

It's somewhere roughly around a quarter hour later when one of them decides to speak.

"You do realize that we've just been making out for the past fifteen minutes on the ground in a park that we broke in to in the middle of the night, right?", she asks, as, having taken a breather, she is leaned up on one elbow, mirroring his position opposite her.

He gives her a wry smile. "Are you complaining?"

Well, of course she isn't complaining. I mean, besides the fact that this was one of the most emotional evenings she has ever experienced, and that their relationship had taken a huge leap from where it had been, uncertain and rocky, to where it now lay, like them, safe and sure; besides all that, the man could flat out kiss. Damn could he kiss. Then again, wasn't he good at everything? And as clichéd as it sounded, they seemed to fit together. To know exactly what the other wanted. And they had only been kissing. Okay, a little more than just kissing, but mostly he had been very respectful, and gentle, and loving, and good god.

She looked up at him, and laughed lightly, and he smiled for a moment before laughing along with her. Neither certain why they were laughing, except that maybe this was just a seemingly impossible scenario.

He grabbed her and rolled her so that she was on top of him, and she smiled as she pulled a leaf out of his blonde curls.

"As much fun as this has been, I must say that I think it's beginning to rain, and perhaps we should head out before it gets too bad." Jane intoned.

And, sure enough, the rain that had only moments before been barely a drop or two was now coming down in increasingly heavy torrents, soaking them thoroughly to the skin. They both got quickly to their feet, she picked up their make-shift blanket, and he grabbed her hand as he began to run back to the place where they had come in.

"Where are we going?" she shouted over the sound of the downpour. He glanced quickly back at her while he was opening up the gate, and assessed the meaning of her question. She seemed to understand his hesitance, and offered, "My place is just down the road a bit. If we hurry, we might make it before we drown."

He was pleased by her suggestion, and a bit worried by the way she was shivering so violently. It was, after all, a rather chilly evening to begin with, not to mention the soaking rain. They linked hands again, but this time he let her lead as they hurried down the side walk, trying to cover their heads with his jacket so as to avoid the aforementioned drowning.

By the time they reached her apartment, they were both laughing so hard that they could hardly breathe. They also both resembled wet rats, albeit good looking wet rats, which were anxious to get out of the downpour and into something warm and dry. Her satin green dress was now a darker shade of emerald than it had been before, and Jane had to admit, as much as he liked it when it wasn't sopping, he didn't mind the alterations. Every inch of the fabric clung to her tiny, yet distinctly feminine frame, and he was having difficultly refraining from tracing her wonderful shape with his hands, not to mention his eyes.

"Jane, you're staring." Lisbon commented.

He only smiled cheekily up at her from where she stood on the doorstep trying to get the key in the lock, and shrugged.

"It's not my fault you look positively sinful in that dress, Teresa. You mustn't blame me. I am only a man, after all."

Lisbon laughed lightly, "Oh is that what you are?" She now had the door open and had stepped inside, Jane close behind.

He shot her a playfully devious look and swatted her on her rear as she tried to escape into her hallway.

"You wound me Lisbon. I take you out tonight, confess my undying devotion to you, conduct myself like a total gentleman, even though you greatly resemble sex on a stick in that dress, and what do I get in return? You insulting my masculinity. Bah." he said with mock hurt in his voice.

She only laughed in response, and, giving him a coy look, said

"Jane I have two bathrooms, I could get you some of my brother's old sweats to wear and lay them out for you, if you want to change into something dry while I do the same."

She was teasing him. Two bathrooms, nonsense. He was going to be with her now, for real. But, if she wanted to draw out the foreplay a bit more, he supposed he would go along with it.

"Excellent, dear. And then, I shall make us both some tea, after which we will cuddle up on the couch and whisper sweet nothings to one another. What say you to that?" he asked with his most charming and persuasive grin on his face.

"Sounds good, Patrick. And, um, are you trying to seduce me? Because as we are in my apartment, I think it falls under my jurisdiction to seduce you." She smirked.

"Meh, we'll just see what happens. We have all the time in the world." His tone had gone from playful to serious, and she knew that he was now being entirely sincere. She simply nodded and walked off in the direction of her bedroom to gather some clothes for him.

They both had the feeling that the night was only beginning.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist. I do not own Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon, or any of the other characters. I also do not own the lyrics to the songs that I use in my stories. WARNING: This chapter contains mature content.**_

_**Authors Note: This chapter is a flashback, and the songs I used are from A Fine Frenzy (Allison Sudol's) newest album, Bomb in a Birdcage. The first song excerpt is from her song called Beacon.**_ _**The second song is called Near To You.**_

You say your time has come; you're tired of waking up

Don't be obscene, I can't conceive of living without you

You say you drag me down; no one should want you now

I start to cry; you kiss my eyes and say I'm not allowed to

------Flashback to two weeks prior to the previous scene------

_Those had been dark days. The days when it seemed it was all coming to a close. He was so close. He was hovering right on the edge of every scene that passed Jane's eyes. Red John. He was manipulating this scenario. He was using Hardy, and everyone else involved. He was laughing at them. But he didn't know. The bastard didn't know that Jane was smarter than he was giving him credit for. Jane had known who had Maya ever since Rosalind had made the comment about the chain smoking friend of Roy's who had so wanted to see a blind woman cook. He could've saved the girl sooner, but after explaining tediously to Lisbon that every chip had to fall in exactly the right place, at the right time, in order for them to catch Hardy and have justifiable evidence to bring him down, she had agreed that Hardy probably wouldn't hurt the girl, and had acted accordingly. Lisbon wasn't mad about the idea of leaving the scared girl wherever it was she was being held, but trusted Jane's judgment that Hardy wouldn't hurt her, as deluded as he was about being in love with her. Something else was bothering her though, and she decided to make it known to him before something irreversible happened. _

_She came quietly back to the office at midnight, the rest of the team having gone home long before, excluding, of course, Jane. And there he sat, staring but not seeing; lost in a far off world of despair that crushed her to see. He was so far out of it that he didn't even notice her come in at first. She walked tentatively closer, and slowly, his eyes seemed to shift from their unfocused gaze back to some semblance of reality. He focused on her, and his expression gave her the odd feeling that he was grasping onto her presence like a life preserver._

"_Lisbon", he rasped, sounding like the drowning man that had just surfaced for air. _

_She quickly crossed the space between them and knelt in front of where he sat, placing her hands on either side of his tortured face, forcing him to look at her._

"_I'm here, Patrick." She said quietly, and with those words of comfort, he cried. She had never seen anything so broken and lost in all her life and it felt as if she was dying inside, to see his pain. She felt it too. Oh how she had grown to love this broken man._

_He sank down onto the floor and held onto her for dear life. He grasped at her, fistfuls of her jacket, her hair, whatever he could get a hold of, as he cried out his desperate agony in her arms. She was the only anchor here. She held him together as all of the pieces of him shattered apart. All the kings' horses and all the kings' men…_

_But she kissed his hair and held him tight, whispering incoherent words of comfort in his ear. She held him, and rocked him back and forth, as if he were a child in her arms. Slowly, he quieted, but didn't loosen his fierce grip on her. _

_And then, without a breath of notice, his lips were on hers. He was still desperate, but this was a different kind of desperation. She could feel the wetness of tears on his face against her own. Their tears mingled between them now, becoming one._

_He kissed her, and be damned if she didn't kiss him back. She couldn't deny that this was what she wanted. She hoped that she could at least afford him some comfort; even if that meant bringing pain onto herself when he inevitably turned away and went on to follow his personal vendetta. _

"_Jane," she breathed into his mouth, just as his lips traveled over to nibble on her ear. And there, as she gasped at the feeling, he whispered huskily, "I need you, Teresa. Please." His voice broke on the last word. This was his plea to her, and she could not deny him. She would not deny him this. She would make him forget, if only for a moment, the intolerable pain that was his life. She would not pretend to herself that tonight would change everything for him. She wouldn't lie to herself and say that he was going to drop his past and suddenly want a life with her. She knew that wasn't what was happening. But she would not refuse him this; she loved him too much._

_And so she nodded to him, and he pulled them up onto the couch and moved her to sit in his lap. This was not enough contact for her so she lifted one leg up over both of his so that she was straddling him. He groaned at the new closeness. She had only ever imagined doing this with him, but even in her wildest fantasies this had never been the scenario she imagined for their first time._

_He had no coherent thoughts about him that night. All that existed was her, her body, her smell, her luscious lips. That she had showed up here, right when he though he was so lost in his pain that he wouldn't find his way out, was proof of the dark angel she really was. It was as if she was attuned to his very being. He needed her, even though he hadn't known it, and then all of the sudden, she was there. All he knew now was her. He wanted her body and soul right now, and he would worry about the consequences later. He ached for her so that it was like an open wound in his chest, one that only she could fill._

_And so, as she wrapped her delicate arms around his neck and tangled her small fingers in his hair, he kissed her more fiercely still and moved his hands up from their current spot on her waste up to her shoulders to push her denim jacket off of her. She pulled back her arms to help him, and then she was unbuttoning his light grey vest and pushing it down over his shoulders and arms after which she promptly threw it behind her to land somewhere near her discarded jacket. His warm hands traced up and down her now exposed arms as she unbuttoned his shirt, and at the same time his tongue was waging war with hers, matching blow for blow; just as it should be._

_In no time at all he had her shirt off, and he bra had been thrown somewhere near her office door. He could not believe that this woman was here. This creature of the night, this dark seraph. Her raven hair in stark contrast to her alabaster skin; Michelangelo couldn't have sculpted anything more beautiful even in his own mind. Her petite frame was perfectly proportioned, and here she was laying herself bare to him, being here for him as she always was, and this night was all he could give her. Oh, how he longed to give her so much more than this. But this was all he had left, and so he would give and take in equal measure. He needed her to the point of insanity, and he was going to drink his fill. _

_He pushed her back onto the couch to hover above her as she slid his shirt off of his shoulders. Her chest was heaving, her perfect breast seeming to reach for him, begging for his touch. But first…he lay softly down on her, his naked torso landing against her starting at their wastes and slowly lowering inch by inch until their chests were tightly pressed together. The sensation was unbelievable. Quite literally, he had never experienced something so utterly, heartbreakingly wonderful; made more so by the feeling that this was a one time occurrence. She gasped audibly, and he leaned his face down to kiss her again, but this time, differently. Slow and deep and wet. She had never felt more desired in her entire life. He was explosive. He was a flame, and she was gasoline, and now when the two were about to come together, surely they would simply combust. _

_One of them, in their lust-filled haze, had undone both sets of pants, and as the team that they were they worked to get them off of their legs. Once this mission was accomplished, she desperately pushed his boxers down to his knees and then used her legs to push them the rest of the way off. During all of this he was making love to her with his mouth, lavishing hot kisses from her mouth to her ear, down her jaw to her throat, his hands playing simultaneously with her right breast and pushing her black lace panties down her legs, and then…finally. He pulls back a bit to ask permission, and in way of response she hooks her legs around his knees, and pulls her hand down to guide his hard length into her tight wet center, all the while keeping her blazing eyes locked on his._

_And he is powerless here with her. A thousand futures flash before his eyes as he feels whole for the first time in maybe forever, but then he remembers that he can't give her this. He can't love her how she should be loved, cannot give her the beautiful dark haired children with bright blue eyes that he had pictured just now. He had promised to avenge his family, and all he could give her now was his body. He thought, maybe it would be enough. Like a last feast before an execution. She was every delicacy that this world had to offer, and he was fairly certain that she must be the envy of all the gods. _

_Sweaty, and determined, he begin to move out of her, only to have her legs pull him back in even deeper than before. He watched her face, her head thrown slightly back, her green eyes glazed over, and a lovely flush moving from her face down to her chest. As they continued their dance, both lost in the perfect, heartbreaking bliss of this moment, he kissed her, and for a moment, allowed himself to love her just as she was loving him. _

_Several deep thrusts later he felt her begin to tighten around him, and he wanted to come with her, so he moved his lips down to suck on one perfect rosy peak, and bit down slightly causing her to gasp out loudly. He repeated this again, and it was all that she needed to fall over the edge. He forced her to look into his eyes as she climaxed, as he let himself go within her, to see the truth of what he was giving her in his eyes. And she did. As their collective high slowly subsided, he wrapped her tightly in his arms, and rolled them onto their sides facing each other, still connected in that most intimate of ways._

_They stayed that way until their sweaty bodies began to get chilled from the room's air conditioning. Slowly they pulled apart, Jane kissing her lingeringly for another moment before he watched her get up and begin to redress herself. After watching her for a moment he got up and did the same. It wouldn't do for anyone to walk in when the morning came and find him naked on the couch. When he had finished he sat back down on the couch, and suddenly he felt more exhausted than he could ever remember feeling. He was at peace enough now to sleep. She saw his heavily lidded eyes and walked over to press him back so that he was lying on his couch. He looked silently up into her beautiful face, and she smiled a sad little smile and kissed him softly on the forehead whispering, "Sleep Jane." And then she was gone, just as she had come. He smiled slightly as he drifted off into a deep slumber._

Such pain as this shouldn't have to be experienced

I'm still reeling from the loss still a little bit delirious

Near to you I am healing but it's taking so long,

Because though he's gone and you are wonderful it's hard to move on

Yeah, I'm better near to you.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Authors Note and Disclaimer: I do not own the mentalist, as stated in the previous chapters of this story. Now, to my readers, I took a long time to continue this because I didn't get many reviews and was somewhat discouraged by that. But as I reread it tonight, I had to keep going with it. I assure you that if you want more, and let me know about it, it is much more likely to come sooner rather than later. I love you all!**_

"We never talked about it." His voice breaks the silence. "Why didn't we ever talk about it?" and he looks down at her where she is wrapped tightly in an afghan and curled into his side like a kitten.

She inclines her head slightly to look at him, a questioning glint in her eyes. Though she's pretty sure she knows what he's talking about, she asks anyway by way of a simple "Hm?"

"That night. At the office. You came to me, and you held me, and then you made love to me, although I know now that it made you sad. You did it for me, didn't you? You knew that I wasn't at a point where I could give you anything. You knew it was selfish of me, but you were there to comfort me without any questions at all. And then, we never talked about it."

His words had come out quickly, as if he had been forming them in his mind for the last half hour and now could simply no longer stand to hold it in. And truthfully, he had been mulling over this and a few other things as they sat warmly tangled together on her sofa after having shared some nice hot tea. They hadn't seen the need to take the night further, just yet. It had been comforting just to hold one another and sit quietly in the warmth and stillness. She smiled slightly, and turned a little so as to see his face better.

"Yes. I did it for you, but I wasn't entirely selfless. I wanted you just as desperately as you wanted me. I knew you couldn't give me anything but your body at that time, but that was okay. I gave myself to you, because it was what I had to give, and that's what you do when you love someone. You put their needs before your own. We didn't talk about it, Patrick, because we didn't need to. That night doesn't need any words. It was what it was; wonderful, of course, but part of the past now."

He leans his forehead down to hers, with his still slightly damp blond curls resting against her still damp dark ones. He sighs deeply, and then inhales the sharp smell of her freshly clean hair; lavender and eucalyptus, he thinks, and also something that is simply and distinctly Teresa Lisbon. He wishes he could bottle it up and save it for a rainy day.

His left hand comes up to cup the side of her face, and at the contact she leans into his hand and shuts her eyes with a sigh.

"When I make love to you tonight, Teresa, it will be for real. It will be with my whole self, not only my body. Tonight will be our true first time together. And then, I need you to know that I fully intend to come home to you every night, and make love to you over and over again for the rest of my life. Do you believe me?" he asks, sounding more serious and grave then she can remember him ever sounding before. At his first words to her just now, her stomach tightened, along with her throat, and she felt more tears welling in the corners of her eyes. She looked up then, into his eyes, where he had his soul laid bare, and nodded her head. Yes, she believed him.

"Do you want the same thing?" he asks with piercing certainty in his voice.

Again, she nods, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. Still staring intently into her eyes, only inches from his own, he slides down off of the couch, onto the floor on his knees, now reaching his other hand up to cup the other side of her face. She can only stare down at him, rendered completely breathless.

"Well, since that is settled, will you do something for me?" and she nods for the third time, thinking only that she would give him her very life if that's what he asked for.

He smiles slightly, and asks quietly, "Will you be my wife? Will you marry me, Teresa?" Her mouth slides open in astonishment. Whatever she had expected him to request of her, she certainly had never dreamed that it would be her hand in marriage.

"You…you want to marry me?" she asks somewhat dumbly. He smiles at her again.

"If you truly want me for the rest of your life, as I want you for the rest of mine, then I see no reason why we shouldn't make it official. I have been given a second chance, and I do not intend to waste one moment of it." He stares expectantly into her face, and waits for his doom to be decided. And then a smile of earth shattering joy lights up her face, and she sobs slightly as she reaches down to kiss him full on the mouth, and he laughs as, in her eagerness she had knocked them both to the floor, her body on top of his, still kissing him furiously. He rolls them over and breaks apart from her only slightly, mischief and love in his eyes. She smiles up at him, and as she does so, he informs her cheekily that she has yet to answer his simple request.

It's crazy, and very fast, and probably way too soon, but she knows that she won't ever want anybody else, and anyway, since when did anything happen normally when Jane was involved? She kisses him again soundly, and then says "Yes. Yes. I must be insane, but if I am, I'm glad of it. I love you with everything I have. Yes, Patrick. Yes, I will marry you. Right now if you can produce a priest." She grins at him, and he hugs her close in a bone crushing embrace. They kiss again, with all the joy, and rightness of the situation surrounding them. After a few more minutes of silent celebration, he roles them over on the rug so that they're facing each other on their sides.

"Though it's tempting, no. Not right now. I want to marry you in front of everyone at the CBI, and your brothers, and my parents. I want to do it properly. Provided, of course, that you share my desires." And she grins slyly at him, saying "Aren't I supposed to have a ring on my finger by now?" she is only joking and he knows this. "I have it Teresa, but it's not here. I want us to do something first. But you should know, it is rather stunning.", she smacks his arm in a playful manner.

"I only just bought it yesterday, dear, but there is something I need closure on, with you, before I can give it to you properly." She knows he will tell her later what it is he needs from her, though she can guess what it has to do with. "I don't care about a damn ring anyway, Patrick. You're all I want. And I'll do whatever you need me to do. But for now, didn't you say something about making love to me tonight?" and her voice has gone husky, and his eyes dilate, and nothing more is said for quite some time, as they let their bodies do the conversing, and get to know each other fully, and completely for the very first time.

_**Authors Note: Again, reviews are greatly desired; craved even. Please let me know what you think.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Apologies to all for stopping for so long. But I just got to thinking I couldn't do them justice. Tonight I've been reading my reviews for this story, so I'm determined now to give my reviewers what they are asking for. I promise to do my best by this story, and by the relationship between the characters that I'm trying to interpret.**

She slowly becomes aware of him watching her. She cracks one eye open to find him propped up on one arm, golden curled head resting in his hand, contemplating her silent form. She smiles slowly and then gives a long and luxurious cat stretch, groaning quietly when she feels aches in places that haven't been excercised in far too long. He answers by kissing her in the dip on her collar bone and sholder and whispering a quiet, "Good Morning" into her skin, rubbing his five o'clock shadow on her skin, causiing her to to shiver lightly. She smiles softly at him, and reaches up a hand to comb through his unruly blonde curls. His other arm is thrown over her so that his hand rests on her naked hip, with their legs tangled together. There is something so primative, and yet utterly serious about the way he looks at her now. Like he's branding her with his gaze. It is at once both terrifying and electrifying, crippling and empowering. A paradox. This is what they are together. The most beautiful conundrum, that they'll spend the rest of their days exploring.

After staring at one another for a moment, Patrick leans down to kiss her, soft and slow and deep, stirring up the latent tigress within her chest, who cannot seem to get enough of this man. It isn't as if she hasn't been with him like this multiple times since last night, although that's what it feels like. Every time they've come together like this so far has felt like they've been fasting from one another for years, and are suddenly coming back together. As he rolls over onto her, running one hand up her satiny smooth side tangling his other hand in her raven hair, she wonders if it will always feel like this with him. Somehow she thinks that it will. Like a rainstorm after a long drought in the desert. He drinks her in like she is life, and he is a dying man. There will never be a permenant cure for their desire for eachother. They'll never be rid of this, and neither one is complaining. Because it's never been like this for her, or for him either, if he's being wasn't this bone deep connection, that he can feel in his very marrow. That she feels vibrating in every fibre of her being, with every breath she takes.

She feels like she is on fire, the most delicious type of flame, as he eases his tongue into her mouth, searching, feeling, at the same time that she pulls both of her knees up furher into her, wrapping one strong calf around his thighs, urging him to slide into her waiting body. His length finds her heat, as naturally as if it's been doing this for a thousand years, and he slides into her strong vibrant depths with a sigh of relief. Home. She is his home.

She twists so that he is on his back now, the new angle is exquisite. He stares up at her, her breasts swaying tantalizingly above his face, her face a mask of pleasure and concentration. His lips part slightly in awe of the vision that she is. One hand comes up to cup a perfect breast, his thumb teasing her rose hued peak until its hard, and then lifts up to wrap his lips around it, humming while he soothes it with his tongue. She pants quietly as she lifts off of him until only the head of his member is inside her, and then she clenches her inner muscles hard and squeazes back down onto him. A groan escapes his surprised lips as he lets her breast go with an audible pop. She is holding him inside of her like a vise, clenching and releasing her muscles, so that he is trembling beneath her. What power this woman has over him!

In, out, in, out; shallow, deep, rotate, now the other way, pull back, dive back in. Dear sweet Jesus.

"Fuuuuuuucccckkk", she growls out as she tenses around him, and arches her back, sitting up on him now. His answering groan is a mixture of expletives and oaths, as he pulls her back down for a kiss thats hot and demanding as he speeds up his thrusting until finally, with a press of his thumb on her clit, she falls apart above him, panting out "I...Love...You...Ahhhhhhhhh" as she rides the waves of exstacy. Nothing has ever been like this in her entire life. No experience can compare to being with him. It is unprecidented. She feels like she must be breaking some sort of rule, having emotions this wonderful and powerful and earth shattering in her body. How can one person feel so much and not simply die of it?

In her pleasure ridden mind, she's aware of him still desperately holding onto control, trying to watch her climax. The expression on his face and he moves inside her and pants her name, has her coming again, a climax inside a climax, so hard that tears are leaking out of her eyes and she thinks how there will never ever be another like him. With the tiny shred of sense that she has left she gasps out "Come with me, Patrick." And he does. Her wish is his command, always and forever. As they collapse in a heap of sweaty limbs and satiated bodies, he takes what little strength he has to kiss her lips softly, and roll them over still connected, so that they are facing one another.

As they lay there regaining their breath, he lifts a hand and traces her face and admits to her "I cannot wait to marry you." Such blatant honesty. She thinks she might actually die of happiness. She smiles that secret smile that only he gets to see, the one that causes her dimple to show, and leans her face into his caressing hand. She suddenly has the feeling that she is dreaming. Surely this is all just a really great dream. Nothing this good could ever really happen with them, right? As she voices her thoughts to him he pulls her close, and tucks her head under his chin, kissing her hair softly, and whispers "This is real. This is the only thing that's real. You are the only true thing in my world, and that's just the way it is. You and me, we're it, and that's all there is to it." A promise, sealed with a kiss.

She rolls over on her back, her right hand entangled with his left. "I hope to God that every morning for the rest of our lives is like this." She sighs. He grins his trademark Patrick Jane grin, and answers, "Count on it, woman." And then with a frown, he turns over to her and says her name.

"Hmm"?, she answers him, still caught up in her post coital bliss.

"Teresa, remember when I said I had to do something with you before I could give you your ring?" he asks. Her interest peaked, she rolls over and raises an eyebrow.

"Will you come with me to see them?" he asks in an almost whisper, vulnerability swimming in his eyes. Her heart breaks all over for him, and she loves him impossibly more. She doesn't need to ask who he means by 'them'. She knows. He needs closure before he can embark on this with her fully. She smiles and nods and pulls him close, kissing his face, whispering soft assurances.

"I will follow you until my last breath" she promises.

**A/N: *part deux* Well, okay. I know this is sort of a filler chappy, but I have the next one planned out in my head. Again, I'm sorry for the delay. If you review a lot I probably will update faster, but no pressure right? Love!**


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